


Shining Armor

by mmbopp



Series: Temperance [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, BioWare, Budding bromance, Canon Compliant, Close Calls, Dorian BFF, Dorian is a Good Friend, Dorian saves the day, Dragon Age Lore, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Head Injury, Implied Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Implied Relationships, Knight-Enchanter, No Smut, Pep Talk, Pissed Dorian will burn your face off, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Romance, Tevinters, knights in shining armor, never taunt a mage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 15:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5053309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmbopp/pseuds/mmbopp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inquisitor Temperance Trevelyan takes a nasty blow to the head in battle. Who will be her 'knight in shining armor'?<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Shining Armor

**Author's Note:**

> Here goes nothing! This whole short story came about because I wondered “Why does the rescuer always have to be the love interest? Why can’t the best friend save the day?” Thus, my very first fanfic.  
> I hope did justice to BioWare’s amazing characters. (Dorian, Bull, Blackwall are my boys!) Some dialogue will be recognizable and those lines belong to BioWare. I had fun working in some game dialogue where I could. Temperance looks like me and her personality is pretty much how I would react under the circumstances in-game. I hope you enjoy!  
> I didn’t have any beta-readers before posting, so comments are welcome.
> 
> Notes:  
> Temperance's nickname is Tempe, pronounced [tempi:]  
> Kaffas! : Tevene for "Shit!"  
> Festis bei umo canarvarum: Tevene for "You'll be the death of me"

Temperance was aware of an incredible pain.

Reaching for her head, her hand came away splotched and bloody as she felt an oozing trickle down the back of her neck. “Dorian!” she cried. Her vision narrowed and spun to black as she crumpled to the ground.

The Red Templar relished his cruel handiwork. Looming over his prize, one more blow and the mighty Herald of Andraste would meet her doom. Corephyeus would surely reward him for ending Inquisitor Temperance Trevelyan. Yes, his master would be very pleased, he thought to himself, a gleeful cackle erupting from his crooked mouth.

“Another blighter falls!” shouted Dorian victoriously after dispatching his own adversary. He took a moment to gain his bearings. Turning on his heel towards her cries, he saw where Temperance had fallen. “TEMPE! NO!”

A frost step away, Dorian dashed to her side. A silvery, shimmering, shivering gust whooshed past the gloating Templar whose sword came to a jarring halt as Dorian materialized between the Red Templar and Temperance’s unconscious body. Scarlet sparks flew as Dorian's ornately carved staff blocked the would-be killing blow.

Dorian squared his shoulders, steeled gaze, and his jaw locked. "Back. Away.” seethed Dorian through bared teeth. The snarling mage countered, turning his enemy's momentum against him, pushing back with all his might. Dorian quickly spun and followed through, the weighted end of his staff landing a staggering wallop across the Templar's teeth.

The Templar and the Tevinter mage circled each other, predator and prey. Dorian summoned Death Syphon, an eerie ultraviolet vortex, hissed menacingly as it snaked up his Antivan leather boots. Righteous flames curled around the Tevinter mage’s fingers to pool between his palms.

The defiant Red Templar wiped blood from his jaw and spat at the ground, unfazed. ”You'll pay for that, Mage!”, he sneered brandishing his corrupted sword.

“Then, you of all people should know: Never taunt a mage!”, bellowed Dorian as he unleashed a blazing maelstrom.

When Dorian’s furious flames waned, only one remained. His high-collared, white silk robes tattered, stained crimson. Gore spattered across his olive complexion and clotted in his raven hair. The air reeked of burnt flesh and ash. Scorched, smoldering earth and blackened, oxidized armor were the only remnants of his former foe.

Turning his attention to Temperance, Dorian knelt and shook her shoulders frantically. No response. “ _Kaffas!_ ” He placed his ear next to her pallid face and felt for breath. “Tempe? Tempe?! Wake up!,” he implored, batting her face. Her sapphire eyes fluttered open and he sighed relief. “ _Festis bei umo canarvarum._ ”

“Dorian?” she whispered weakly “But how? The Templars? Blackwall? Bull?” Woozy and head throbbing, she grimaced and tried to sit up.

“Shhh, Shhh, save your strength. Drink this.” Dorian cradled her head as he lifted a potion to her lips, watching as the color returned to her cheeks. “Can you hold on to me?” Dorian asked. She gave a small nod and he slipped his left arm under her back and the other beneath her knees. She clung to his Tevinter armor, thankful of its many leather straps, as he gingerly carried her away from the cremated carnage.

The battle had started out as an ambush. This Red Templar squad knew what they were doing. Draw the warriors away. Isolate the mages. And it nearly worked. They had cut off Dorian and Temperance from Blackwall and Iron Bull. Blackwall ordered the mages to stay behind him, then he and Bull charged the Templars. The templars retreated, rounded a corner leading the warriors away. Then, sprung their sinister trap. For a while, Temperance held her own as newly minted Knight Enchanter. Her sparring lessons with Cullen had gone well and she quickly took to swordplay, recalling her childhood days spent with her older brothers; however, tactical awareness had never been her strong suit. Consequently, she had been too preoccupied with the two Templars in front her to notice the third had flanked her to deliver the devastating knockout blow from behind.

“DONE and DONE!” Blackwall’s familiar war cry rang out. Hearing the last metallic clashes of sword and shield on enemy armor, Dorian hurriedly rounded the bend in the path, “BULL! BLACKWALL! Some help for the mages, please!”

Roaring, The Iron Bull’s mighty ax came to splattering stop in the chest of a downed Templar as he turned to Dorian.“I got you now, Boss. Dorian, you go get Stitches.”  
Dorian placed Temperance the massive Qunari's arms and Bull cradled her like a precious, porcelain doll.

“Hey, Bulls. Where’d Dorian go? Why does my head hurt?” Temperance asked as he carefully set her down against a nearby tree.

Dorian quickly returned with The Charger’s healer, grateful he had accompanied them on this trip. Bull had insisted Stitches come along on the mission, knowing Temperance and Dorian’s greatest skills weren’t the healing arts.  
“What happened?” Stitches asked, gently pushing aside her blood-caked auburn hair, he palpated the back of Temperance’s head as she winced.

“Templar ambushed her from behind. She was out cold for few minutes. She’s already had a potion.” panted Dorian, his normally confident voice trembling with concern.

“Inquisitor? How do you feel, ma'am?” Stitches inquired.  
“Dizzy and Why does my head hurt?” she moaned, tears on her cheeks.  
“I can bandage her wounds, but her concussion looks pretty bad. We need to get her back to Skyhold.” Stitches replied “Someone will have to watch her closely until then.”  
Blackwall spoke up, “Let’s send a raven back. We can be back by tomorrow night if we hurry”.

A makeshift litter was attached to Temperance’s beloved Fereldan Forder. Blackwall tied its reins to his own Orlesian Courser. Bull and Dorian walked by Temperance’s side. Skyhold was a full day’s ride away.

“Tempe... Are you alright?” Dorian asked after a time, gently waking her.  
“My mother always said I was hardheaded. Lucky me.” Temperance groaned, cringing with each bump, rock, and root in the road.  
“Good to see you haven’t lost your wit, Boss” Bull joked  
Temperance quietly admitted, “I’d have lost more if you hadn’t been there, Dorian.”  
“And disappoint your strapping, young Templar? Perish the thought!” Dorian remarked.  
“My two valiant knights in shining armor” Temperance mumbles.  
Blackwall stifled a chuckle, “Did I hear that right? Dorian? Valiant? You must've hit your head harder than we thought.”  
“She’s right about the shiny part. With all those buckles and the jewelry, Varric doesn’t call you ‘Sparkler’ for nothing, Kadan.” said Bull, nudging his paramour’s side.  
Temperance's giggles turned into a whine “Bull, can I have a potion? My head hurts.”  
“You had one just a few minutes ago.” Noticing her drowsy yawn “And no, you can’t fall asleep just yet, Boss.”  
“Amatus, a story might help keep her awake.” suggested Dorian.  
“ Did I ever tell you guys about giantbaiting?”

They arrived at Skyhold fortress after sunset the next evening. Stitches gave a brief report to the healers on-call before helping Temperance to a cot in the infirmary. The door burst open as Cullen rushed to her side and took over Dorian’s vigil. Whatever doubts Cullen had about Dorian’s allegiance quickly vanished in the coming days. Cullen had regarded him with courteous professionalism, yet had never fully trusted him, until now. His skepticism was disproven. If Temperance could trust Dorian with her life, he would, too.

Dorian was leaving Temperance's quarters after speaking with the healers about an update on her condition when Cullen stopped him in the stairwell leading down to the Great Hall. Cullen exhaled tenuously, rubbed his neck with one hand, and said, “I, uh, want to thank you. I let my prejudices question your motives. I feel better knowing you’re there to protect her when I cannot.”

This moment was one of the few times Dorian was speechless. The stunned mage simply nodded and extended his hand. A firm Roman handshake cemented their newfound, brotherly bond. An unlikely alliance, a noble Tevinter mage and Fereldan former Knight-Captain, united to safeguard the one woman they both held dear.

After a week’s worth of bedrest, Temperance was back on her feet, though the healers advised against any missions for at least a month.

The Chantry bells chimed six o’clock in the evening as Temperance ascended to the second floor of the Skyhold library. A heady scent of leather, parchment, and ink permeated the air. Temperance always loved the smell of a library. Her refuge both as a child and at the Ostwick Circle. Volumes upon volumes of valiant deeds and champions of the just provided her escape, if only for a few hours. Having read all the books in her quarters, Temperance wandered the shelves and found Dorian in his plush wingback chair, engrossed in a new tome, absent-mindedly swirling the contents of his goblet. A newly uncorked bottle of wine on the side table. The late afternoon sun shone through the window pane and glinted off the Tevinter mage’s silverite buckles. Temperance gently knocked on the timeworn bookcase.

Dorian smiled coyly as he glanced up from the volume in his lap, “Fancy meeting you here. What’s on your mind?”

Temperance sat on a nearby stool and sighed heavily, “Where do I start? I am the unwanted, inconvenient mage daughter of a minor Marcher Lord. My parents had their heir and their spare in my two older brothers. I was meek, mousy, and mostly ignored, content to be left alone with my books. My mother was a distant enigma, though I'd have done anything to please her.  Magic, to my mother, meant no dowry and I was worthless. She couldn’t force herself to look at me when the Templars took me away the next day. She didn’t even say goodbye.” Temperance was on the verge of tears, but precariously continued.

“Once at the Circle, I learned that the rebels and runaways garnered cruel punishment. Learned that the hard way." She dragged her slender finger across the jagged scar on her cheek. "So, I accepted my fate. I took a position in my one constant refuge, the Library. My life was dedicated to my research and the younger apprentices’ studies, not combat spells. Maker’s Breath, I’m a librarian, not a battlemage!” Her usually calm countenance was cracking. “Keeping my magic tightly controlled and keeping my head down were my priorities. Now, I’m battling a darkspawn magister bent on global annihilation and everyone looks to me to stand tall, to be the hero because I’m the fucking Herald of Andraste!” Her emotional dam broke, a tearful torrent down her face. She held up her left hand, its Mark emitting a soft verdant pulse, “And whatever this thing is, I don’t want it!”

“Maker, ugh, look at me. A snivelling, emotional mess. Oh, if my mother could see me now. She would have a fit over this ‘unladylike display’...” Another heaving sob.

Dorian almost couldn’t bear watching his best friend break. Despite their disparate experiences with magic, Dorian knew all too well the pressures of near impossible expectations and desperately seeking parental approval.

“I love Cullen with all my heart, but sometimes, he doesn’t understand people like you and me. And besides, You saved my life against that Red Templar. You’re the one that should be called a hero. Maker, if you hadn’t been there...” she bawled. Dorian graciously handed Temperance his embroidered silk handkerchief and embraced her tenderly. He rubbed her shoulders while she released some of her burden. Her sobs eventually ebbed as her control returned. She hastily wiped her cheeks and whispered, “Thank you.”

He lifted her chin and enclosed her hands with his. “You don’t need to thank me, Tempe. You may have been ignored and unwanted before, but the Inquisition needs you; Cullen needs YOU." He continued "You are most certainly not worthless. More importantly, You are my dearest friend. I swore to stand beside you, come what may. I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t believe in you. I said once before, Tevinters have no reserve in war nor in love. And if anyone else threatens your life again, I will gladly incinerate the bastard.”

Somehow, hearing those words in his velvety Tevinter accent, she found a renewed spirit. She knew Cullen was her strength and shield. Dorian was the spark to reignite her fire.

“You know? For one who prefers men, you sure know how to cheer a girl up.” said Temperance with a sheepish grin. She felt considerably lighter having shared some of her burdens.

“Naturally, One of my many endearing talents. Now, as for what might have happened, let’s not think about that. What you should think about is how to get your dear Commander out of his armor. Might I suggest another game of Wicked Grace?” Dorian flashed her a brazen, devilish grin.

Temperance playfully punched his shoulder. “Ass. I have to go.” Temperance smiled and tucked a novel under her arm. She paused before turning to leave. “Care to help me stop an imperial assassination plot at the Winter Palace later this month?”

Dorian gives her a sly wink. “Try not to kill anyone without me.”


End file.
